


The Uninhibited

by Absolute_Trash_Fire



Category: South Park
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Another one-shot came crawling out of the Trash Fire, Biting, Deepthroating, Grinding, It's a surprise - Freeform, Knotting, M/M, Minimal revision whoops, More worldbuilding than necessary here tbh, Spanking, Who's the Alpha?, Who's the Omega?, You like these tags yet?, oh shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-24 22:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20022289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Absolute_Trash_Fire/pseuds/Absolute_Trash_Fire
Summary: If you look back far enough on this species' extensive history, you may find populations not unlike the creatures we keep as pets. Opportunistic feeders. Territorial mannerisms. The instinctive drive to reproduce. Heats and ruts. Competition and possessiveness. But, with time, we have gained the ability to advance. We no longer need to fight for every meal(usually). Written contracts label property as our own, guarded by law. Though it came later, we curbed our detrimental hormone cycles. But... Just how is the latter achieved?Inhibitors. Little pills that stabilize the human population, giving the appearance of a Beta-exclusive species. Effective, free, and world-changing. They've allowed us to advance to where we are with greater efficiency. However, what happens in the absence of inhibitors? Who are the Uninhibited?





	The Uninhibited

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I am still writing Oh My God, They Were Cellmates, no need to worry(not that I feel you are), but I got stumped. Then this idea came to mind, and it had to happen. I'll be picking back up on my main series shortly, but the need to write shitty porn was too great lol.
> 
> As with Falsetto & Lipstick, I took a pretty popular fandom concept(A/B/O Dynamics) and gave it a twist, though this one might not be as well received. I dunno. Overall quality is questionable, pacing is awkward, I could have done better, etc. Rambling aside, I hope you enjoy! <3

His job was rarely easy, but…

This shit really takes the cake in foolish endeavors. He’s been pushing through the underbrush of these shadowy woodlands for almost four hours now, but has yet to see any progress. In fact, he’s probably lost. Everything looks the same in here--giant trunks to tall, creaking trees, dark foliage, and the occasional echoing call of wildlife. This area is bleak, and cold, filled with seemingly sinister lifeforms. 

Or perhaps it’s just because it’s  _ fucking two in the morning _ . And Craig Tucker has never had to go to the  _ fucking woods  _ for his job. Not to mention the fact that the last time he ate was  _ seven fucking hours ago _ . His opinion on this assignment is pretty clear.

“Oh fuck this…” he mutters to himself as a misstep startles a flock of birds from a nearby bush, startling him more than it should have. He’s been through a lot of pretty god awful places in this line of work, but this is the first time he’s felt legitimately unsettled. Most “Uninhibited”(U.I.) stick to the seedy areas of slums, like bars, strip clubs, motels, “brothels”--y’know, all those  _ wholesome _ places. And most of the U.I. citizens are caught in less than a week, their access to higher though becoming exponentially limited. But this particular assignment… It's really something else. These individuals don't isolate themselves. They definitely don't run off to the middle of nowhere. Each time he’s given a task that proves to be more than “mildly inconvenient,” Craig asks himself the same thing:

How does this keep happening?

He knows the answer, but the question seems to make incessant reappearances. To more efficiently evolve, humanity has synthetically abandoned their “primal” side. From an outside viewpoint, the concepts of “Alpha,” “Beta,” and “Omega” might as well have evaporated, rendering a species of beings with Beta traits. This is not the case. Rather than allowing civilization to tear itself to shreds in the midst of intense, maddening hormone cycles, mankind had eventually developed a pill to counteract the effects of their rogue reproductive systems. With refinement, they have gone from a hedonistic species, to one of constant moderation and self-control. These hormone blockers are  _ affectionately _ referred to as “inhibitors,” and reign both heats and ruts into quarterly events for the year, as opposed to a monthly ordeal; rather than being an eight-day period of pain and blind lust, drawn out to this length by complementary hormone interactions, these are two or three-day blips where individuals find themselves feeling “particularly feisty."

Well,  _ most  _ of humanity has made the choice to implement inhibitors. Some dislike feeling controlled. Maybe they're giving into depression and existential dread. Or perhaps they're adrenaline junkies. Regardless… They intentionally skip those daily pills(provided  _ for free _ by the government), and allow primal arousal to cloud their judgement. Supposedly, an unchecked heat/rut is unbelievably pleasurable. Truly maddening bliss. Yet, just as illegal drugs may induce euphoria, this sensation can become addictive. It doesn’t take long for one to reduce themselves to the intellect of animals, for them to start behaving aggressively toward everyone and everything, chasing their next "high." It doesn’t take long for an upstanding member of society to become one of the “Uninhibited.” And so, this is where Craig’s career comes in. A branch of law enforcement was created to track down these rogue Alphas and Omegas, to neutralize them, and bring those "lost" individuals to rehabilitation facilities. If this proves to be too difficult, "extermination" may be necessary, which is a different battle entirely. It tends to be a pretty dangerous job.

After all, you’d have to be at least a little  _ insane  _ to decide against hormonal stability. Combine that with the primal desire to live, and… Well… Craig Tucker has nearly been killed more than once. But every time, he pulls through, and outlived his targets. With his experience comes a keen eye for those that “fit the profile” and quick understanding of how to diffuse dangerous situations. These skills have proven quite useful to him, saving lives and preventing injury. Yet… 

That “keen eye” of his seems blind at the moment. His assignment for the last two weeks(yes, this guy is  _ that good _ at evading a goddamn U.I. Hunter) does not fit the profile in any way, shape, or form. Supposedly, he was a “late bloomer,” and his body rejected the inhibitors when he started taking them at the age of 19. This means the guy’s been a U.I. for  _ four years _ , and has only been spotted recently. He’s not loud or reckless--he’s crafty, quiet, and quick.  _ He’s also becoming a massive pain in the ass. _

Craig carefully tugs a manila folder from his bag, checking the photo of the man he’s supposed to be looking for in the limited moonlight. Is he missing something? There’s no way  _ in hell _ this guy should be able to blend into this greenery. He’s got bright fucking blond hair, for Christ’s sake! Tweek Tweak. Currently aged 23. Born in South Park, Colorado. Secondary gender: Unknown.

_ Unknown! _ This asshole went missing before the government could even figure out what was going on with his junk! His employment history, academic records, medical files,  _ everything _ \--their information on him is full of holes and what they have is still up for debate. The decided excuse is something about flawed recordkeeping in backwater towns. Craig pushes his messy black hair back from his face, giving a frustrated growl. And  _ to think _ , they were just gonna  _ let this kid run loose _ until he posed a legitimate issue. Unbelievable. The  _ issue _ he ends up causing isn’t just some little  _ misdemeanor _ , either. Somehow, his pheromones are capable of neutralizing the inhibitors in other people’s bodies. So Mr. Tweak has started leaving a trail of utter fucking chaos everywhere he goes. Normal folks suddenly tossed into unmoderated heats and ruts, emotionally unstable, often physically ill not long after exposure.  _ How has he gone this long without drawing attention, exactly? _ At least, in the woods, there will be less collateral damage. He really doesn't fit the mould of most U.I. citizens. Not at all. They're never clever. Rarely smart enough to try and hide. The noirette carefully considers who he may be up against. 

This man… He’s estimated to be 5”6’ and roughly 125 pounds. Not exceptionally short, but far from tall. His face is described to be a little on the youthful side, and the pitch of his voice is a tad high. Tweek is an Omega. If he does fight, it will be with tricks of the mind, manipulation, and pheromone traps, not brute strength. Craig sighs. He always feels awkward when he has to hit an Omega. Yes, they might be trying to kill him in some situations, but there’s definitely a stigma around violence toward those of that secondary gender. The noirette continues stomping through fallen branches, growing incredibly angry. 

He’s hungry, tired, and sweaty. At this point, he’s just gonna kick the shit out of this Omega for dragging his ass out to the middle of nowhere. Chivalry toward the "child-bearers"(as if that title isn't utterly objectifying) be damned. “Alright,  _ Tweek _ ! If you can hear me,  _ get your ass over here _ before I make you  _ really  _ regret leading me into the middle of fucking nowhere!” As expected, this is met with silence. Craig gives a yell of frustration. 

Suddenly, a little ways ahead, there’s a flicker of movement. Desperate to get this over with, the U.I. Hunter sprints toward the faint sound of crunching branches. He can make out the shift of his gaze being directed over a shoulder. Startled, the shadow begins to flee, and Craig doubles down on his blind pursuit. “ _ Got you now, fucker! _ ” His feet slip on stones and logs, and his jacket catches repeatedly on the surrounding foliage, but the noirette refuses to slow down. He’s not about to lose this little shit. Not after two weeks of searching the streets, and hours of stumbling through a goddamn forest.

It takes longer than it should for him to start to catch up--he can almost grab the blur barely outrunning him by three feet, only stumbling through sharp turns. But… As they reach a clearer area, Craig’s exhilaration gives way to confusion. This isn’t Tweek. It looked like it  _ could  _ have been a fleeing person in the darkness of the forest, but now that they’re passing through moonlight… It’s a small deer. Young enough to have legs that still quiver with their unfamiliarity toward running--those watery eyes regard him with terror as it glances back. Craig Tucker, five-year representative of the U.I. Hunter Branch of law enforcement in Colorado, just spent twenty minutes chasing a  _ fucking deer _ . He slows down as he reenters the woods, eventually coming to a stop. The deer is long gone. After a moment of quiet apprehension, the noirette looks around in disbelief. Yep, it’s silent again. He’s alone. A disheartened sigh escapes his lips. “Alright. Fuck this.” He turns to head the way he came from.

For a split second, he only sees a pale blur, and blue pinpoints, but then Craig Tucker finds himself being crushed into the leaves of the forest floor. He stares up at the flushed face of someone he’s been hunting for  _ two damn weeks _ . Wild blond hair obscures part of his face, and his eyebrows are furrowed in obvious anger. “Alright, I got  _ you _ , fucker! Now spill it! Why the fuck are you stalking me?!” True to witness reports, his voice is shrill, but there’s a grit to it that erases any misconceptions of Tweek being effeminate. Craig blinks up at him before scowling. Relief and outrage flood him in equal parts. He's found him, but… Tweek has caught him by surprise, and the noirette is unsure how this will go. “I’m doing my job, you psychopath! Do you have any idea how much  _ shit  _ you’ve stirred up over the last two weeks?!” The blond sputters in disbelief. “What?! What does that even--”

“Three dozen people have required inhibitor adjustments because of your janky ass pheromones! I really don’t give a shit about whether this is some power trip for you, or if there’s some Alpha you hate. You’re coming with me.” He says this with the confidence of someone not being pinned to the ground, which would look silly from a bystander's perspective. Now the U.I. on top of him narrows his eyes, expression quickly becoming murderous. “When do you think this started, exactly? Even if it was two weeks ago, are you really gonna assume I just-- _ fucking _ \--  _ Agh! _ " the blond spasms and growls out of frustration, "Do you think I’m doing this  _ intentionally _ ? Do you think I  _ like _ making people miserable? You follow me to my house, and you accuse me of being some kind of monster?! The  _ hell _ , man?!” This makes Craig pause. “...House?”

“Yes, dipshit. I live in the woods. No one comes out here, so no one gets all fucked up because of me! I’ve had to go into town to get  _ clothing  _ and  _ medicine  _ before it gets too cold. It's October! It snowed for like three hours two days ago!" he pauses to catch his breath, "The inhibitors I tried didn’t do  _ shit _ , so a bunch of people went nuts. But I fucking  _ tried _ , okay?! I got what I needed, so can you just leave me the hell alone?!” The noirette stares at the coloration in his cheeks, his bared teeth, and his trembling shoulders. “Doesn’t matter. You are registered as an Uninhibited Omega, Tweek Tweak. I gotta drag your ass into town.” He surges up at the blond, flipping him onto his back. “It’s my job, and bitching isn’t going to help you. And don’t fuck with my pheromones either, the whole Alpha-Omega bullshit won’t work.” 

An odd look crosses Tweek’s features, and suddenly Craig is struggling to restrain someone who is  _ much  _ stronger than he looks. They strain against each other, twisting their limbs and shoving their weight around to try and gain the upper hand. Leaves crunch beneath them, and the moon bears silent witness to this foolishness. It quickly devolves into fist-fighting, the noirette socking the U.I. in the gut after feeling knuckles connect with his jaw. Tweek's shoe connects with his hip, an impressive feat given their position on the ground. He quickly becomes blinded by frustration, swinging hard, and wildly, the blond mirroring him, until they eventually shove away from each other and stand, oblivious to the bruises they'd received. His heart is pounding, and the contents of his stomach are turning over and over in some strange sort of anticipation. He's not usually this stupid, or aggressive. The noirette’s brain searches out a reason for this unforeseen shift in his attitude until a new stimulus assaults his senses. A rich smell, not sweet or delicate, but distinct and heavy, seems to fill the air. It takes a moment for Craig to place its familiarity. 

Coffee. French-roast, perhaps, but without the creamers are sugars one might associate with an Omega scent. Tweek smells like black coffee, and a little bit like pine needles; it blends into something musty, but aromatic and nostalgic. Camping, or hiking--a day spent in the woods. Something that seems masculine in the stereotypical sense. “I’m not sure who decided I was an Omega, but you might want to update your paperwork, dickhead.” the blond grits out.

The U.I. Hunter just stares at him, noting features that definitely do not belong to an Omega. Wiry, but defined muscles. A sharp jaw. His combative stance. The ever-present aggression. Craig was very wrong; he might be in more danger than he anticipated. Sure, he’s small and more subtle than a stereotypical Alpha, but the pheromones don’t lie. And just like the description in his records, the smell drifting from his pale skin makes the hairs on the back of Craig’s neck stand on end with a sensation that is vaguely familiar. He can  _ feel _ his inhibitors being cancelled out, but this is followed by confusion. “Okay.” the noirette says aloud, dragging his hands down his face, trying to regain control. “ _ Okay _ .” Unlike the pheromones of most other Alphas, Tweek’s presence isn’t automatically revolting. He’s gotten so used to obnoxious, spicy stenches that cling to everything,  _ especially  _ Omegas, that this scent had him fooled for a moment. Craig falls silent, struggling to find the right words for this circumstance. He's on the clock, for fuck's sake! It's time to finish his assignment, not mentally check out of this critical moment! The blond raises an eyebrow, stance still rigid. “Okay, what? I’m not going back with you. There is no compromise here, asshole.” Craig snaps all too quickly at this one little comment.

His response to Tweek’s aggression is different, too. It’s not blind frustration and dismissiveness, but a feeling of competition. A feeling like he has to  _ win _ , regardless of whether they’re playing a game. “You really think you have a choice?” Craig snaps, before leaping at him once more. This time, they’re not engaging in some childish swinging of limbs--a well aimed punch winds the blond, which leads to the taller male being headbutted in the nose. Blood spills over his lips and down his chin, which he takes a moment to wipe away. The noirette pins Tweek to a tree, one forearm barred across his throat, his other hand gripping a pale wrist, and the blond gnashes at the air between their faces, grabbing the U.I. Hunter's jacket with his free hand, before pausing. He sniffs loudly. “Your pheromones are really strong now. You smell like a river, and…” Blue eyes flick down to the space between their bodies and widen. “You’re hard.”

Craig freezes up, skin tingling, though whether it’s from embarrassment or (as impossible as it may seem)  _ additional _ arousal, he’s not sure. “I already told you, I’m not an Omega.” the blond says peevishly. “Yeah, I fucking know that. I don’t fuck Omegas, anyway.” They just blink at each other for a moment in the low light, the noirette honestly startled by his own comment, before the shorter male breaks the silence. “Oh, so you fuck Alphas, then?” This makes Craig press against his throat harder, bringing their faces close. “Shut your fucking mouth.” It feels like he’d somehow just spilt a secret that hadn’t existed in the first place; his tone is low and sharp, with panic flitting through his dull green eyes. Yes, Craig Tucker avoids intercourse with Omegas. Not because of some superiority complex, but because their eager reactivity seemed more like chemical coercion than consent. It's not really the case in this day and age, but the noirette remains cautious. It feels gross. The desperation makes him uncomfortable, even if it's a regulated version of what happens naturally. For a moment, he thinks the U.I. is going to mock him, or make a disgusted comment, but it’s not a particular sound that makes the situation shift. The dewey smell of pine trees on an early morning seems to intensify, and Craig hazards a glance of his own. There’s an erection in Tweek’s jeans that mirrors his own, and the blond’s body goes rigid the minute he realizes his cock’s being stared at.

They make eye contact simultaneously, both expressions darkening. This is uncharted territory--dangerous, and foreign. A dense silence blankets the pair, leaving an almost tangible tension hanging around them. Yet there’s temptation present,  _ apparently _ , and they lurch toward each other impulsively. Craig’s forearm has slipped away so he can grab at the shorter male’s shirt. Pale fingers tangle into his dark hair, and suddenly they’re kissing, roughly, fervently. Their tongues tangle, teeth clashing here and there, and suddenly, the noirette is grabbing Tweek’s narrow hips, pulling their erections close. He bites the U.I.’s lower lip, pulls it just a little too roughly, and licks the bloodied, slick wound he’d left behind. “You will speak of this to no one.” he snarls before starting to rut against Tweek, caging him against dried bark.

The blond glares at him before shoving off of the tree and tackling Craig, sending them both into the dirt, before grabbing his cock roughly through his jeans and jacking it for a moment. “I’ll tell whoever I damn please, Alpha-fucker.” His hands are slapped away, and the shorter male is dragged back into a filthy, heated kiss. He growls into the noirette’s mouth, though it breaks into a groan when calloused fingers dip into his pants and start stroking his dick. Without warning, he’s bared, and there’s a hand on his ass, pulling him down so Craig can grind their cocks together wildly. For a moment, Tweek is lost in the feeling of a tongue in his mouth, and a throbbing erection sliding against his length, but then the taller male is pulling back with a smack of lips, leaving them both panting. Their pheromones seem to mix in the air, and both men are dizzy with need, but uncertain. “Let me up. The rocks are scratching the shit out of me.” Craig murmurs, voice low and hoarse. 

Tweek gets to his feet, and they tuck themselves away, regarding each other suspiciously with hackles raised.  _ Is this what an actual rut feels like?  _ The noirette’s mind is hazy, and he feels like even the faintest whiff of an Omega’s scent could make him vomit. It's not sweetness, or easy submission that he wants. What he really wants is right in front of him, and the shorter male seems to share this sentiment, breathing shallowly through parted, spit-slicked lips. The visual alone makes his cock throb, and he finds himself yearning, but not mindlessly desperate. Probably because it's not complementary Omega hormones assaulting him. Still… His entire lower abdomen is burning almost painfully, and he studies Tweek’s frame hungrily. “Again, dude. I’m not an Omega.” It’s not as snappish this time--the U.I. almost seems hesitant to make this clarification. Craig gives a rough swallow. “Yeah, I know.” 

He pulls him into another kiss, though this one is just a little smoother, Craig mapping the inside of Tweek’s mouth slowly, curiously. When they part, he whispers against the blond’s lips. “You smell really good, you know that?” There’s silence again, which has the taller male beginning to worry, before the shorter male slowly, delicately leads the noirette deeper into the woods. Worry is immediately replaced by something akin to excitement. His judgement may be clouded, but he knows when he's being humored. After fifteen or so minutes of dense quiet, Craig spots a shoddy old log cabin. Tweek unlocks the front door, tensing up a little at the feeling of a hardened cock pressing against his ass. “This doesn’t automatically mean you get to top.” he snaps, letting his “guest” into the dark living room. The lights flicker to life, revealing rickety furniture and dusty rugs, but Craig is too preoccupied to study the blond's living space. "This is my house, so I make the rules, dipshit."

As they drop onto the couch, the taller male opens his mouth for a snarky retort. But, of course, he’s cut off by teeth sinking into his shoulder. Hands slide up the front of his shirt, tweaking his nipples, and Craig utters something between a growl and a groan as he makes a rough grab for the blond’s ass. They’re right back to competitive aggression, Tweek grabbing at his cock and snarling against his neck. “Clothes off, fucker.” The noirette flips them over, shoving the shorter male’s shirt up until his chest is bared. “You first,  _ honey _ .” he mutters sarcastically before taking a flushed nub between his teeth. This makes the man under him whine, before slender fingers are yanking on his hair, and he meets a piercing blue gaze. “Alright, let me clarify.  _ You’re _ the guest. I get to top.” Craig narrows his eyes, but gets up on his knees, tugging his shirt off and looks down at Tweek expectantly. He's more than a little smug when his partner studies his bared torso, but maintains his borderline hostile tone. “We’re both Alphas. Neither of us get “wet,” so how is this gonna work?” The blond does the same before sitting up and sliding his cold palm down the taller male’s torso until he’s cupping a heated bulge through wrinkled jeans. He blinks in mild surprise when the U.I. Hunter automatically arches his back, twitching his hips against those wandering fingers with a little grunt. “I have lube, and you have a prostate. You’d better be naked before I get back, dick.” With that, Tweek walks down a hallway, muttering to himself over this "bullshit situation."

Craig rolls his eyes, but undresses anyway, uttering a relieved sigh when his freed cock slaps against his stomach. He jerks himself for a moment, toes curling and eyelids fluttering, when he suddenly feels eyes on his bared skin. The shorter male stands in the doorway, eyebrow raised, but the noirette just stares him down, fucking his fist slowly. His expression is an imperious challenge. There’s the faintest bulge of a knot forming at the base of his dick, which makes Craig ask himself, again, how this is supposed to work out. Still, he doesn’t have it in himself to worry. Not when the blond is shucking his jeans off, crawling onto the couch, and kneeling between his legs. “Spread.” he bites out, gripping a thigh aggressively. The taller male rolls his eyes but acquiesces, breathing stuttering when a slicked finger enters without warning. It curls and twists, and right as he’s adjusted to it, right as he’s starting to enjoy the one, a  _ second _ digit slips past his rim. He growls low in his throat, glaring imperiously at Tweek. Two becomes three, and Craig, unaccustomed to being submissive, yanks the shorter male down so he can bite at his throat and chest. He is not hindered in his attack, and begins belligerently trying to aggravate the Alpha bent over him. Tweek remains silent, much to his chagrin, though his domineering expression is starting to crack.

When the blond is pressing his legs apart, dick pushing against the U.I. Hunter’s entrance, the noirette just looks up at him, the faintest hint of a teasing grin on his lips. “You really look like quite the top.” Tweek snarls between his teeth, though his eyes are glazed-over. “Shut up. I- _ fuck _ -I haven’t done this in a while, and you’re really- _ ah _ -tight.” he snaps, easing himself in further. Craig muffles a grunt. Sure, he might have the bigger dick of the two, but the blond’s still an Alpha. This still kind of burns. But, true to Tweek’s earlier statement, the head of his cock brushes against a virgin bundle of nerves, and the noirette utters a stuttered gasp. Tweek bottoms out before sucking at Craig’s nipples and rubbing at his sides, waiting impatiently for him to adjust. And when he receives a nod, he abruptly bites into a tanned shoulder, pumping his hips roughly, but not quite as fast as he’d prefer. Like a "true gentleman," he waits for his partner to get completely comfortable.

He really tries to keep himself quiet, but the noirette has never felt anything against his prostate. This is new, and he has no tolerance for pleasure of this variety. His mind is going blank, and he starts squirming mindlessly, muffled moans rumbling in his chest. Tweek pauses before giving a low chuckle, picking up the pace until only the obscene sound of squelching and slapping, sweaty skin can be heard. Craig is too far gone to argue when he feels the press of a throbbing knot against his rim, instinctively jerking his hips down. It presses him wider once, wider still twice, and after three or four more brushes, Tweek is all the way in, rabbiting against his hips with an animalistic growl. Eventually he’s immobilized, but he still makes rolling thrusts until Craig can feel that scorching knot soften, and his ass is filled with a foreign wetness. 

They’re panting, the blond laying on top of him, but now the noirette is becoming aware of his own neglected cock. It hurts. His prostate is no longer being massaged, and again, he’s definitely not an Omega. This isn’t going to satisfy him. After ten goddamn minutes of the taller male being driven insane by his own hard-on, Tweek is able to pull out. They both shiver at the separation, but Craig is already on a mission. “Alright, your turn.” He pushes the shorter male onto his back, coating his fingers in lube, and pushes a slippery digit in. “ _ Fuck _ .” the blond gasps, and the noirette notes the way his not-fully-softened cock twitches in interest. “You’re still hard.” he murmurs, grabbing the twitching length experimentally. Tweek hisses between his teeth. “Of course I’m still hard. We’re- _ ah _ -both in a rut, and neither of us have Omega hormones.  _ Oh fuck- _ Comedown is gonna take hours with nothing to neutralize either of us.” Craig hums, pumping the cock in his hand until it’s erect again, fingering his partner open steadily, searching out the same nerves that drove him up a wall.

“Hours?” The blond nods, gaze unfocused as he rolls his hips onto the digits in his ass mindlessly. “And it’s gonna hurt…” Now the taller male pulls his fingers free, pulling Tweek into his lap and lines himself up. “Unless we do this the whole time?” He says this while pushing into the U.I.(or perhaps they’re both U.I. by now), laughing breathlessly at the way it makes the shorter male whine. “Yes. Ruts hurt- _ ngh _ -unless you’re sticking your dick in something, dumbass.” Craig begins to bounce Tweek on his cock. “Really? I had  _ no  _ clue.” The blond glowers at him before giving a startled scream of pleasure. His forehead hits the noirette’s shoulder, and he claws at his back desperately. “How were you able to- _ fuck _ -to stay so much more composed, while… Ah,  _ fuck _ , right there, please,  _ right there _ -!” Craig presses a light kiss to his temple, voice coming out as a taunting lilt. "I guess I've just got more self-control than--  _ ow! _ " Tweek growls around the skin between his teeth, clamping down harder. The taller male tries to pull him off, or guide his mouth away, but the blond's eyes glitter with a defiant grin. With a snarl of his own, the noirette takes Tweek by the throat, slamming him against the couch, torso hovering over his quivering body. "Stop  _ biting _ , you little shit." he grits out, fingers digging into his partner's neck. All he gets is a smirk, the shorter male coiling those slender legs around his waist and pulling him closer. " _ Make me _ ."

Fingers still on the blond's throat, Craig uses his other hand to hold Tweek's hips still, rolling into him with bruising force. He watches with fascination as the Alpha under him whines and writhes, hands flying to grab his own cock. " _ No _ , you already came. You don't get to bite the shit outta me  _ and _ cum twice." Tweek gives an aggravated screech as the hand on his neck suddenly gathers and closes around both of his wrists. Now there's a grin on the noirette's lips as he watches the shorter male's length bob with each thrust, his body trembling with overwhelming arousal. It doesn't take long for the bulge at the base of his cock to start pressing into the blond, and Craig drags this out, splitting him open with slow, rough thrusts. Once he's in, he starts snapping his hips forward wildly until his knot is too swollen to permit the movement. Finally, the noirette settles for a light rolling motion, taking Tweek's neglected cock and groaning delightedly at the way his partner tightens in response. Without warning, the blond cums, white fluid streaking their chests, the reflexive clench ripping Craig's orgasm from his body. "Ah,  _ fuck _ , it's hot! Why is your cum so hot?!" Tweek whines, squirming on the knotted length still trapped inside of him. The noirette pants against his ear for a moment before responding. "Dunno. Just… Give me a minute."

Again, it takes roughly ten minutes, but they're able to part. They regard each other in silence before Craig hastily stands. "Can I use your shower?" The blond nods, offering a vague gesture down the hall while making himself comfortable. He watches the noirette stride to the bathroom, cum dribbling down the inside of a thigh, before switching on his tv.

The U.I. Hunter is quickly beginning to understand the need for inhibitors by the time the shower faucet is spilling hot water over his sweaty back. His cock is already trying to harden, and he carefully avoids touching it while scrubbing his skin. Tweek wasn't kidding. It's going to take  _ hours _ for his pheromones to even  _ begin _ to regulate themselves--he can only be thankful for the fact that there is no Omega to extend this rut further. After ten minutes of idle washing, Craig turns the water as cold as it will go, and thanks god in heaven when his length is only a  _ little _ heated. He wraps a towel around his waist, and wanders back into the living room. "Hey, I don't have a change of clothes--can I borrow some-  _ oh _ ."

That last little sound escapes his mouth before he can catch it, and Tweek looks at him with a raised brow. Well, it takes the noirette to process it as raised; the blond is laying on his back, head hanging upside-down off the front of his couch. His knees are bent, one dangling over the back cushions, the other splayed wide. He's got his hands resting innocuously on his stomach, just above the waistband of his grey boxer briefs. Craig just studies the bite marks on his skin, his ruffled blond hair, and the outline of his  _ still _ half-erect length.  _ Fucking pheromones. _ Now the shorter male regards him suspiciously, blue eyes flicking to the front of the towel around his hips. "Dude are you hard again?" The noirette heaves an exasperated sigh. "Uh- I wasn't before--" His voice breaks a little, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. "Before I walked in here, but. I just…  _ Fuck _ ." It's like his legs have minds of their own. Craig discards the obscuring length of fabric as he walks, naked as the day he was born, to stand directly in front of the blond. "You just look…" Tweek jumps as a thumb traces the seam of his lips, staring at the cock currently five inches from his chin, rigid, twitching, and weeping precum. "Ah, just-- Stick your tongue out?" The shorter male glares at him, shaking his head stubbornly. "Tweek, please, fuck, I need it.  _ Please _ ." For a moment, the noirette is ready to flat out beg, erection hindering his access to common sense, as well as the ability to feel shame. "Swear to Christ, dude.  _ You're _ sucking  _ me _ off later." Then there's a tongue, warm and wet, curling past his thumb, and the taller male groans in excited anticipation.

He prods at the muscle, making sure it's curled over teeth. "No biting." he warns, taking his dick into his hand to position it. "No shit, Sherlock." Tweek mutters before pushing his tongue out a little further. Craig rolls his eyes, though a long moan escapes from his lips as he pushes his cock along the blond's tongue, the shorter male's upper lip making a wonderfully smooth seal around his length. 

It's warm, and wet, and absolutely  _ perfect _ . For a moment, the noirette just stands there, relishing in the feeling of a mouth on his cock; after a moment of silence, he pushes in deeper, losing himself in the give of Tweek's mouth, then throat. Cool fingers grip his hips, and Craig slumps forward, bracing a hand against the back of the couch. The taller male curses under his breath before drawing his hips back, beginning to thrust steadily into his partner's mouth, panting shallowly with each shift. A tongue teases his slit each time he pulls back, slipping past slick lips to guard against teeth once more when he pushes in. Slowly, he begins to pick up the pace, snapping his hips forward rapidly until he finds another surprise: between Tweek's thighs, grey cotton strains against a throbbing erection, a damp spot near the tip. Without warning, Craig grabs the shorter male's dick, hips stuttering at the heated moan vibrating against his length. "So,  _ hah _ , you like getting your throat fucked? Never thought I'd,  _ ah _ , see an Alpha that liked sucking cock so much." The blond only utters a muffled whine, back arching in response to the hand between his legs. Cupping the back of Tweek's neck, the noirette snaps his pelvis forward, just barely stopping the entirety of his knot from pushing past the shorter male's lips. 

For a moment, he worries he'd gone too hard, too far, but then the blond is tugging at his hips, pulling the U.I. Hunter's cock deeper into his mouth, eagerly thrusting into the noirette's hand. It really is perfect--something about the angle just lets Craig slide his erection perfectly down his partner's throat. He tosses his head back, fucking Tweek's face hard and fast before seizing up and cumming hard into the delightful warmth of the U.I.'s mouth. They separate, the blond rolling over as the taller male falls to his knees. "Okay, my turn to cum." Tweek declares, hopping down from the couch and standing behind Craig, kicking the insides of his thighs until he takes the hint and spreads his legs further. He shoves at broad shoulders, bending his partner over threadbare cushions before sticking two fingers in his ass without warning. The noirette utters an embarrassingly loud whine, jerking back to push those digits in deeper. "Never thought I'd see an Alpha that liked taking it up the ass so much." Tweek whispers in his ear. "Shut…  _ A-ah! _ S-shut up." the U.I. Hunter mutters weakly, slumping against the cushions and arching his back. A third finger slides in, and joins the first two in a fanning motion, very deliberately prodding at his prostate now and then. 

When the blond finally pushes in, Craig can't help the relieved cry he utters. He doesn't have it in him to be contrary, not this time, at least. Not when Tweek brusquely grabs his hips and thrusts all the way in,  _ hard _ . The taller male digs his fingers into the worn fabric of the couch, holding on for dear life as his partner starts pounding into him at a breakneck pace. "God, you're not as tight now that I've knotted you." the blond murmurs against his ear. "So sorry to,  _ hah _ , to disappoint, you little--" Craig's sarcastic response is cut short by a palm coming down on his ass--his voice breaks and dwindles into a pathetic mewl. "C'mon, big boy.  _ Ngh- _ You can tighten up for me, right?" Another slap rings out, earning a whine. " _ Fuck _ , just like that." Tweek growls against his ear. He fucks the noirette hard and fast until the clench on his cock begin to lessen, taking a moment to smack the ass his hips are already slamming into with punishing force. And again, Craig feels the swell of a knot pressing into him, though the stretch isn't as intense this time. The blond bites into his shoulder without warning, shoving the rest of his dick into the U.I. Hunter in one go. He earns a beautifully loud moan and lightly rolls his hips, unable to do much else. Upon taking the noirette's length into his hand, the heat around his erection becomes tight enough that Tweek finally cums with a loud sigh of relief, slumping against Craig's back bonelessly.

But, of course, with their haphazard approach to this predicament, the taller male is left out of the blond's moment of bliss. "You're such a dick." he grumbles, unable to move for the time being. As if taunting him, the length in his ass gives a twitch. "Uh huh." Green eyes bore into the U.I. over a bruised shoulder, burning with vindictive intent. "Just you wait until I can move, little shit." Delicately, Tweek presses a kiss to the vertebrae of his partner's neck with a heavy laugh. "Bring it, babe."

* * * * *

"H-holy shit. I think I'm done." Craig says hoarsely, voice full of wonder and eyes almost teary with relief. "Really?" the man laying next to him asks with an impish grin, pale hand making a grab for the soft cock between his legs. "Don't you fucking dare! I  _ will _ kill you!" the taller male shrieks, slapping the offending limb away. He's fixed with a sulky expression, the blond crossing his arms petulantly. "Yeah, well I'm  _ not _ done. And I think it's only one more. You gotta help me, dickmunch." For a moment, the noirette debates refusing, but decides, with a heavy dose of resignation, he should put an end to this for  _ both _ of them. 

It's not even sexy at this point. The living room reeks of pheromones and sex, and they're both sweaty, and exhausted. Six hours. Six goddamn hours without going completely flaccid, and being knotted, bitten, smacked around, etc. Tweek gives a twitch and a whine when his erection is swallowed down, but doesn't have the energy to thrust or grab. He lays there, back arching minutely and toes curling. It ends up being a pretty shitty orgasm, but the sleepy smile on his face is a pretty good sign he couldn't care less. "Finally. Oh my god, I thought I was gonna die." he murmurs, practically melting into the throw pillows around his shoulders. Craig manages to stand, sluggishly walking to the bathroom for a much-needed shower. When he returns, the blond is studying his living room with a scrunched nose and look of disdain. "My house is a biohazard now." Pausing, he looks at a now-empty bottle of lube, and his discarded clothing. "Now I need lube, cleaning products, and new blankets. Thanks a bunch, asshat." The noirette sighs before searching for a piece of paper. He scribbles something on it, and glances at the shorter male stretching idly. Text me a list of what you need, not just now, but in the future, too." Tweek raises an eyebrow. "You really wanna put up with this train wreck again?" 

"It's either just me, or three dozen people. I don't want to arrest you. Taking you back to the city would just make things worse, and you've been pretty responsible so far." He meets blue eyes, currently astonished, and offers an awkward smile. "Do you think your pheromones will stay sorted out long enough for me to get your shit?" The shorter male nods, though he looks sheepish. Craig stands, tugging on wrinkly jeans and a dusty shirt, walking to the door. "Ah, wait." One moment, he's about to leave, the next there's a hand on one cheek, lips brushing the other. "You're a peach, Alpha-fucker." 

"My name's Craig, you little shit." Tweek hums, giggling. "I know." A badge is pressed into the U.I. Hunter's hands. "You're coming back anyway, so I don't need this." Craig scowls before rolling his eyes and giving the shorter male a light peck on the forehead. "Text me the goddamn list. I'll be back tomorrow." With that, the noirette leaves, swearing quietly upon realizing he has no clue where this cabin is. But, it's a nice morning. He'd have to figure out a route sooner rather than later, and sets off to do just that.

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a weakness for contrary pairings--disagreeing just to be a little shit makes me giggle. Take that to the bedroom and... You've got two A-Type little shits trying to top at the same time.
> 
> I like to test my abilities as a writer by creating several relationship dynamics between the same people, while staying true to their character. Craig and Tweek are both pretty OOC in this one, but I can't bring myself to care whoops. 
> 
> *Sorry if the overall introduction & summary, particularly my "speaking"(if I'm writing to you, the readers, Imma call it speaking) patterns, to this one are a little off, I'm pretty sleep deprived lmao. Might come back and fix it. The work itself was written while I was mostly coherent, so no excuses if it's shitty.  
> *I've got a pretty big project in mind--a surprise of sorts, if you will. I'd like to give y'all a "survey" so I can add to my already planned content. It's going to take around a month and a half to two months to write, so if you realize you'd like to add to your response here but don't want to hunt this work down, comment on Oh My God, They Were Cellmates(OMGTWC from now on).
> 
> Survey:  
> -No beatin' around the bush here: what are some kinks/sexual concepts you'd like to see in the Creek Fandom/specifically my writing style? Don't feel like you need to align them in a theme, it can totally be a messy list(i.e: a/b/o dynamics, spanking, vore, primal play, roleplaying, feederism, etc), or a very specific concept(i.e: bondage & blindfolding specifically in ribbons)!
> 
> *First and foremost, if I see ANY kinkshaming, in these comments or anywhere else, I'm gonna have to actually figure out how to block/report users, and that's gonna be really sad. And inconvenient. If you're more comfortable answering anonymously, more power to you! This is both a fun interaction with members of this fandom & challenge for me to write well in topics that aren't my first preference, or something I'm even interested in. I don't want anyone to be embarrassed/upset.
> 
> *While I'm open to writing on kinks that aren't my cup of tea, I can say up-front this will not be included: watersports because I do not have any ability to write this kink as attractive. Specifically because it(and a few others that I don't want to begin to research, due to an absolute lack of interest personally, and I doubt many of you are fully aware of) is too far beyond my comfort zone, not because I think the people that enjoy this are disgusting(to each their own, obviously). I also will (probably) not involve ddlb, daddy kink, possibly a few others, because they do not fit the theme I have in mind. 
> 
> *Obviously, I will not be able to get to every kink you might list(answers sooner rather than later are preferred), but I'll happily add the ones that catch my eye. I like the idea of being able to write about things my readers will enjoy. Conversely, you may end up opening a chapter that you are NOT a fan of. And that's totally cool, too! Different strokes for different folks, and all that. Point still stands: don't start a nasty little rant if you see something you don't like. 
> 
> -If someone's already given a kink, don't feel like you need to add another comment, give a little "me too!" to their thread(hopefully that doesn't get too obnoxious notifications-wise), or elaborate on it! This will just make it easier for me to gauge the popularity of some concepts. Don't be shy! Based on the comments, we'll see how I'll approach this project, but I think it could be fun! The theme will remain a surprise for now lol
> 
> *Big question is whether you'll be able to figure out which kinks I'm already interested in reading/writing and which ones I'm listing from memory y i k e s


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